


Love Theme

by shopfront



Category: Love Actually (2003)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-23
Updated: 2007-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-25 08:50:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1642502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shopfront/pseuds/shopfront
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Harry, coming back home meant trying to piece his life back together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Theme

**Author's Note:**

> Massive, massive thanks and all things good to Amanda for all her help.
> 
> Written for iphianassa

 

 

"Sarah, come in," Harry said and gestured at her to shut the door behind her. "What can I do for you?"

"How long has it been since your wife watched you dance all night with your very pretty assistant?"

"Sarah-"

"Just answer the question, Harry."

"Er... about six weeks?" Harry quirked a brow, startled by her unusual forwardness.

"And how long has it been since you came back to work and demoted Mia to being Karl's assistant?"

"I don't know, Sarah, I suspect you pay more attention to Karl related things than I do."

"Be nice. How long has it been since you flew back home and presumably were allowed to quietly take up residence in your own guest bedroom?"

"Look, Sarah-"

"No, Harry. I know you're my boss and all, but I owe you a post-Karl favour here. Don't you think it's time you got up the courage to really convince Karen that you still love her, rather than sitting there politely like a house-guest?"

"How did you-"

"You've been giving Karen space for weeks, Harry. You even flew to the other end of the country on 'business' to give her more space. You can't expect her to remember why she married you in the first place if you're always hiding, now can you?"

"Right. You're... right-"

"Good. Right. I'll just... be going then."

"Sarah...," Harry hesitated when she paused at the door.

"Anytime, boss," she replied, and reached for her ringing mobile.

As he watched Sarah slip out of his office, Harry knew he didn't have a chance of getting any more work done. It occured to him that that sitting idly in his office for the rest of the day would just feed the office gossip mill, but that was even more unimportant than usual, these days.

It didn't seem like it had been all that long ago that he'd been sitting in this office, still mistakenly calling Mia 'Mary', and giving Sarah well-meaning but blunt advice about her own romantic entanglements or lack thereof. It appeared that his wife and one of his employees were closer than he'd expected, and now discussing his most spectacular cock-up to date; still less than he deserved, but painful nonetheless. His assistant-almost-lover had been discreetly reassigned under the pretence that he wouldn't need her services while away on a lengthy business trip. He didn't plan to have her move back.

Karen had been amazingly civil and friendly since his return, but then that was probably helped to no end by the fact that he was indeed safely ensconced in their guest bedroom. Even the children seemed to be blissfully unaware, and life was running along fairly smoothly once gain.

He was home again, and yet there was still so far to go.

Joni Mitchell hadn't been played in their home for over a month. He'd stumbled across a handful of dust covered cases just days after he flew back home, tucked into an out of the way corner. After years of griping, and weeks of dreaded anticipation of all sorts of subtle revenges, such as constant playing of the CD which should have been a necklace (really he'd known better; Karen had always been too good for things like that, and too good for him, certainly), he was surprised to find it's absence cut deeper than it's music ever could.

Karen's words, from the last evening that they'd listened to Joni Mitchell together, still rang in his mind. True love lasts a lifetime, and he understood her now, better than he'd ever thought possible. It was love that swelled in his chest when he'd seen her tired smile at the airport, just like it had every time he'd seen that smile ready to greet him at an airport. Only it was somehow sharper now - deeper, stronger, harder to take for granted.

And yet, he didn't know how to show it. Often repeated gifts, like the scarves, had always been his choice of display, but now gifts required more emotional subtlety than he thought he could confidently navigate.

Harry was still idling in his chair by the time five o'clock rolled around, no closer to figuring out anything, either personal or work related. The cheery blobs of his children's younger attempts at art had blurred into meaningless patterns on his walls, and the tick of his clock had somehow drowned out the usual noise of the office. Wearily, he watched the second hand edge forward, waiting until the very second the clock reached five before reaching for his coat. Gossip mill hopefully appeased by a full day's 'work', he sidled out of the building with the widest smile he could manage. He headed for the stairs, just as he had every other day since his return, to avoid sticking himself in a moving box with Mia, and pondered yet again how many kinds of fool he must have been to get himself into this situation.

The trip home was just as dreary as usual. Leaving work on time - family time always came first now - meant a few more bad drivers thrown in his path than he was used to, but it was mollifying to know that even after a nerve wracking drive through city streets, he still had a home (even if it still felt stiff and awkward and not very homely right now) to drive back to.

When he walked through the door, the first thing he noticed was the smell of spices and something baking. He could hear Bernie and Daisy's delighted laughter from the kitchen. Curious, Harry hung up his coat and followed the sound. It was often something of a minor miracle to keep the two in the same room and have them get along for any great period of time, let alone get them laughing together, but the answer soon became clear once he reached the kitchen doorway.

The oven light was on, assumedly the source of that delightful smell, and there seemed to be flour covering every available surface. Smiling, he carefully perched himself against a flour-free stretch of wall and watched the scene play out before him. Bernie was reaching for Daisy with sticky, dough covered hands, and Daisy was shrieking good-naturedly and trying to squirm away.

Behind them was his beautiful wife, with flour down her front and dough in her hair. She was watching their children and laughing along with them, her eyes sparkling like they used to. Glancing up, she caught his eye and smiled at him. It was a full smile, a real smile, and he felt like he hadn't seen properly in years. It positively lit up the room around her.

Maybe he really was home, after all.

 


End file.
